


A Place of Belonging

by Vagabond



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: D/s themes (kind of), M/M, fusco's self esteem, handjob, mild spoilers for 03x19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1412323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagabond/pseuds/Vagabond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fusco survived another day but put himself at risk to do it. Reese reminds him that his life isn't something he gets to just throw away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place of Belonging

**Author's Note:**

  * For [livenudebigfoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livenudebigfoot/gifts).



> Livenudebigfoot responded to a ship meme on tumblr where she had to answer a ton of questions about various ships. The way she described Reese/Fusco put this story in my head almost immediately so I just had to write it. It is pretty much just shameless smut (which I'm admittedly not that great at but sure do seem to like writing). Enjoy!

Fusco took a deep breath when he stepped into his apartment long after the Vigilance fiasco. Everyone managed to get out safely but he had begun to wonder just how far this business with Finch would go. He loved the work, loved the feeling of validation that came with every solved case or piece of evidence he was able to dig up, but there was still a deeper anxiety lurking just beneath the surface. After all, Carter died because of the work they did, and earlier Fusco had been certain he was going to take a bullet in the head after being backed into a corner by Vigilance. They’d grabbed the young officer guarding the lock up and held a gun to his head. The kid couldn’t have been more than thirty and the fear in his eyes stirred up a deep desire to protect him at all costs. 

So he’d refused to draw his weapon and allowed himself to be held at gun point. When they presented him, captured, to Finch, he saw a flash of pride in the other man’s eyes. It had been enough to carry him through the situation. 

Then Coco Puffs showed up flashing her federal credentials and the situation was over. Everyone was safe. Yes, the document was out of their hands, but everyone was alive and that mattered more. Even Reese and Shaw had managed to get out of their own situation without a huge issue.

To say he was glad to be home after it was all said and done was an understatement. He closed and locked the door behind him, tossed his coat over the back of the couch, and turned on the lamp. Everything was just how he’d left it and even though the hotel had been a treat, it felt great to be home. For the moment he could feel safe from all of the insanity that surrounded him on a daily basis and pretend he was nothing more than a cop. 

It surprised him when he noticed a black blur behind him and he gasped loudly as he was shoved face first into the wall. He groaned and let his forehead thump against the old paint and half-heartedly squirmed even though he knew his arms were pinned very firmly behind him. Even though his heart beat loudly in his chest, he knew he wasn’t in any danger. Or at least, no more than the usual whenever Reese was in his apartment. 

“Lionel,” Reese’s voice was low, almost soft except for the slight bite to his words, “I heard you rolled over and surrendered while Collier cornered Finch.” 

Fusco felt the other man’s weight push into him and he tried to relax, trusting that either the wall or Reese would keep him upright. These kinds of occurrences weren’t horribly uncommon, though the former operative hadn’t broken into his apartment for quite some time. For once Fusco believed he’d been doing well enough to escape the attention of the slightly deranged agent currently pressing almost suggestively against him. He realized he had waited too long to answer when he felt Reese’s fingertips dig harshly into his wrist where he was being held. 

“He was going to kill a guard. The kid was innocent and I wasn’t about to get him killed. You, me, Finch, we all sign up for this bullshit but that kid had no part in it and I wasn’t about to get him a bullet for his trouble.” Fusco finally retorted and shivered as he swore he felt Reese nuzzle gently at his hairline. 

“I understand that, Lionel, but I’m not happy about it.” Now Reese’s voice had a softer edge and less bite. The ever so slight change made Fusco comfortable enough to sag back into Reese in order to put a little distance between him and the wall. 

“Yeah, well, doesn’t surprise me. Is there any possible way for me to not be a screw up in your eyes?” Fusco asked bitterly, scowling when he realized just how pitiful his words were. It had been so long since Reese came to remind him how worthless he could be and for a while he thought perhaps he’d finally gotten the hang of being a good cop. 

“Lionel.” Reese growled in his ear and Fusco hated the way his body reacted, how it betrayed him as he pushed his himself back into the taller man, how he so badly wanted to hear that he’d done the right thing. He also hated how his own first name could be used as a weapon by the people in his life. It was never ‘Fusco’ with the people who disliked him, it was always Lionel. Even when it fell from Reese’s lips his name felt like an admonishment. 

“I get it. Now can you let me go?” Fusco tried to pull away, finally struggling against the firm grip, only to be shoved back up against the wall. 

“No.” Reese’s breath was hot against the side of his face and Fusco let out an involuntary gasp when he felt teeth graze the shell of his ear. “You could have been hurt, too. I don’t like that.” 

“What, now you’re the only one who gets to put himself in the line of fire?” He tried to sound snappy, but his tone wavered as he felt Reese’s lips ghost over the stubble on his cheek. 

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?” 

It infuriated Fusco to hear those words and he suddenly jerked to the side, which actually seemed to catch Reese off guard. He was out of the other man’s grasp for a few seconds, which gave him enough time to turn and face the other man before he was slammed back against the wall, his arms pinned against it, bent at the elbow. Now he was face to face with Reese and the look in the other man’s eyes went straight to his groin. 

The next thing he knew their lips crashed together in a kiss and Fusco swore he heard Reese growl into it as his fingers tightened around Fusco’s wrists. 

The kiss was all tongue and teeth, Fusco doing everything he could to keep up with his companion’s mouth. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the first time they’d done this, either, and in that moment Fusco realized the extent of Reese’s anxiety. The other man’s body was practically vibrating with energy and need and Fusco was now the target. 

After Reese had his fill of Fusco’s mouth, he released the man’s hands and flipped him around to shove him face first against the wall again. It certainly wasn’t Fusco’s favorite position, especially as his lips tingled with the reminder of what Reese’s mouth could do, but he’d take it. He’d allow it. Fusco closed his eyes, pressed his forehead to the wall, and tried to remember to breathe. Reese released his arms but his hands ripped at the buttons of Fusco’s shirt, which popped off unceremoniously and clattered to the floor. 

There was always a moment of self-consciousness as his shirt was ripped open, off, and thrown to the floor but he got over it quickly when Reese’s mouth latched onto his neck. One of the other man’s hands moved mercifully to rest against the bulge in Fusco’s pants and he pushed forward to grind his hips into it willingly. 

“Jesus.” Fusco groaned and tilted his head to the left to offer up more of his neck as he felt Reese biting at the skin, kissing and sucking where ever he pleased all along his neck and shoulder. 

“Not really.” He felt Reese mumble against his skin teasingly before the man bit down and sucked, leaving a dark mark on his shoulder. 

Of course, Fusco couldn’t help but give the mark a side glance as Reese lapped at the abused skin and he shuddered at the sight. 

“Was that really necessary?” Fusco breathed out, yelping as he was shoved unceremoniously against the wall. 

“I’m just claiming what is mine, Lionel.” Reese purred and squeezed Fusco through his pants. 

“You are one crazy son of a bitch.” He moaned and rocked into the hand on his pants, simultaneously wishing for more while also being pretty content to just cum in his underwear if that’s what Reese wanted. 

“And you are my asset. You should start acting like it.” The taller man growled as he kissed along Fusco’s jaw and the detective tilted his head to press their lips together. Really, Reese’s response to the kiss caught him off guard because it was a moment of tenderness in the midst of a storm. It was the reminder that something more lurked just beneath the surface of this dangerous man’s affections, something that Fusco would probably never get to truly witness. 

“What does that mean?” Fusco murmured against Reese’s lips as he pulled back from the kiss. 

Reese neglected to answer as he pushed his weight against Fusco to pin him to the wall. He could feel the taller man’s arousal against his lower back and shifted so he could push his hips back into the bulge. That seemed to trigger something in the operative who was suddenly interested in opening the fly of Fusco’s pants. 

“H-hey-” Fusco was cut off as a strong hand wrapped around his exposed dick and stroked him roughly, “fuck.” 

“You don’t get to decide when you die.” Reese growled into his ear as he squeezed the base of Fusco’s length, drawing another groan from him. “Say it.” 

“I-I don’t get to decide when I, fuck, die.” He was rewarded with a long, slow stroke and pushed his hips into it desperately. What they were doing bordered on humiliation, but there was something about Reese’s desire to claim him, to own him, to remind him that he wasn’t alone that left Fusco breathless and begging for more. 

“Good. You are my asset.” Reese murmured as he swiped his thumb teasingly over the head of Fusco’s dick. “Say it.” 

“I’m y-your,” he was finding the words difficult to say since Reese’s thumb was moving in a painfully slow circle around his tip, “your asset.” Fusco tilted his head back to rest it against Reese’s shoulder as he tried to push his hips forward. In response, Reese’s free hand moved to grasp his hip and hold him in place, hand squeezing in warning. 

“You are mine.” He whispered dangerously and the words forced a little whimper out of Fusco. 

“That is, it is insane.” Fusco tried to fight it and he felt a flush creeping up along his neck and up to his cheeks. “I don’t-I’m a goddamn human being I don’t belong to anyone oh dear god.” Reese had given his cock two quick, hard strokes before his hand stilled. There was silence that followed and Fusco ached for more. 

“I am yours.” He finally admitted and nearly wept with joy as Reese’s strong, skilled hand began moving over him. His hips were still being held and he was completely at the former operative’s mercy, but Reese’s hand was tight, rough, and perfect as it stroked him. 

“Good,” Reese murmured and pressed a tender kiss to Fusco’s temple, “now cum for me, Lionel. Show me just how much you are mine.” 

For a moment, Fusco thought Reese’s words were going to be enough to make him lose it, but it took a few more tight strokes before his body tensed and he came. He grabbed Reese’s arm, the one that wasn’t involved in the stroking, and his fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt. Fusco held on as pleasure washed through him. Without thinking, he tilted his head and pressed his face against Reese’s neck as the man stroked him through his orgasm until he was a trembling mess in his arms. 

“Good.” Reese repeated and tucked Fusco back into his pants, supporting the detective’s weight as he came down from his high. On wobbly legs, Fusco tried to step away and support his own weight but almost tipped over and Reese was there to stabilize him. Without a word he was being led toward his bedroom and he finally collapsed on his bed in a tired heap. 

“This is one of those things we’re never going to talk about in the light of day, right?” Fusco inquired tiredly as he shifted around on the bed and haphazardly yanked on a throw blanket. 

“Good night, Lionel.” 

When Fusco looked up from fussing with the blanket, Mr. Tall, dark, and shady was gone and he just let his head drop back to the pillow. He drifted to sleep feeling strangely okay.


End file.
